


Post-Game Rituals

by dragyn42



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Quidditch, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-09
Updated: 2012-07-09
Packaged: 2020-03-09 00:57:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18906244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragyn42/pseuds/dragyn42
Summary: There is always a celebration after a Quidditch match.





	Post-Game Rituals

**Author's Note:**

> Exchange: hp_porninthesun 2012  
> Recipient: pettybureaucrat
> 
> This was fun to write. I enjoy your prompts, so thank you, pettybureaucrat.

“And Potter comes around the opposing chaser, dropping the Quaffle back to Morris, who rolls, popping it straight back to Potter in one motion! Amazing... and it’s worked! The quick pass causes the Appleby Chasers to readjust and they can’t correct.

“Potter is through the last of the Arrows. It’s just her and the Keeper. A fade left, drop right, he’s out of position! Potter scores again! She’s nine for nine and there they go!

“The Seekers are speeding toward the ground. The Snitch changes direction, shooting towards the bleacher walls, and the Seekers follow. And it cuts back, right at them! Hamish Johns reaches over but Glenda Beech is faster!

“The Harpies win! They’re going to the championship game!

Whatever else the announcer had to say, Harry didn’t hear as he turned to the blonde next to him and hugged her excitedly. Then, without a word, he was out of the box and making his way quickly, though not running—no need to draw attention to himself, after all—through the stadium and down to the lower levels. The passages were mostly empty; the fans were all in the stands, still celebrating the end of the game. Only a trickle of wizards and witches were attempting to leave before things got crowded—and most of them were in Appleby paraphernalia.

In merely a few minutes, he managed to traverse the entire stadium, down and across, and was approaching a large set of wooden doors, painted in dark green with the familiar golden talon emblazoned on each of them, and a cadre of very large, very mean looking wizards in official looking Holyhead robes blocking access. And despite the bulk of dangerous wand-wielders in his way, Harry simply vaulted the dividing rope and continued through the doors.

The hallway was dimly lit, but again, this daunted Harry not at all. He marched on down the hallway as quickly as he could without running, turned, and push his way in through another set of dark green doors with their golden talon, this time with ‘Harpies’ sprawled in gold, cursive script across both doors. Two large security wizards with wands drawn ignored him here as well.

The room beyond was lined with wooden benches down the middle of the floor, and lockers up against the wall. Women in various states of undress all looked up as Harry entered and promptly went back to removing their grime covered, green uniforms.

“You know, Potter,” a taller, broad shouldered, dark-skinned Harpy addressed him. “I could have you arrested for this.”

“Right,” said Harry, deadpan. “Let’s call the Aurors, shall we? Okay, I’m here. What seems to be the problem?”

The half-naked woman snorted, causing her breasts to jiggle, and asked, “So, who’s the strumpet? Veela by the looks...”

“Harry!” came the familiar shout, and Harry turned just in time to catch his wife, clad in only her knickers, as she jumped at him from practically across the room and proceeded to try and breath for him.

Her slim, muscular legs wrapped around his waist and arms locked behind his neck while his hands moved down to the half-covered skin of arse. The occasional catcall and sarcastic cry of disgust all faded into silence as he gave himself over to his wife, falling into the feel of her body against his, her mouth on his, and her scent filling his nose.

From the edge of his awareness, he could just make out someone asking, “And you followed him in here to watch _that_?”

“Nothing I’ve not seen before. This isn’t really only post-game behavior. You get over the urge to gag after a while,” came the slightly accented reply.

Ginny laughed into his mouth and pulled away.

“Gabby, that’s not very nice.”

“Perhaps, Ginny, but it is true.”

A loud guffaw had then looking back at the half-naked player, her breasts outright bouncing on her chest, and she said, “I like her. Gabby was it?”

Ginny slid down off of Harry, to his simultaneous relief and disappointment—he loved holding her against him, but his arms were getting tired—and she leaned into him while saying, “Gwenog, my sister-in-law Gabby. Gabby, the captain of the Holyhead Harpies, Gwenog Jones.”

Gabby’s face lit up and she held out her hand. “I’m so happy to meet you. Harry thinks I’m here because I’m friends with him and Ginny, but I’m really here to meet you and the team. I’m just using his and Ginny’s connections, you see, to increase my chances of gaining a tryout with the team.”

“Gabby,” cried Harry, just a bit too melodramatically. “I’m hurt.”

“Hah. In a short while, you won’t even remember I was here. You’ll be busy with... other things.”

There was general laughter from around the locker room as Gwenog said, “Well, you have the build for it. And the name. And any friend of the sickening lovebirds here can’t be too horrid. Sure, why not? Let me go jump under the water and we’ll get you to the office to fill out a tryout form.”

“I told you she’d like you,” said Ginny.

“Yes. But you’re already on the team. It’s not like you have to worry about making impressions.”

“Gabby, you are who you are, and that’s a wonderful person. The team will love you. Just be yourself,” advised Ginny.

The girl took a deep breath, causing Harry to inadvertently notice that she had certainly filled out over the years. Knowing her as long as he had, it wasn’t really something he had paid attention to. Apparently Ginny noticed him noticing, because she elbowed him, though no one else seemed to notice it.

“Okay, girlie,” called Gwenog as she put on a bra, her knickers having previously been donned. She then pulled on khaki trousers and a red blouse, saying, “Let’s get you to the office. And I’ll let the guards know they’re allowed to let you back in.”

“She could always sneak in like I do,” offered Harry.

“Potter, it’s not sneaking when they let you. They got tired of trying to figure out how you got past them. They’re not really trained to keep out bloody _Aurors_.”

“Yeah, yeah. Ruined all my fun, too.”

There was more laughter around the room as Gwenog lead Gabby out into the hallway.

As Harry turned back towards Ginny, he noticed that most of the Harpies had more or less finished getting dressed—except for Gwendolyn, who was just walking out of the showers, stark naked, her hefty breasts bobbing with every step on her thick, Beater frame. She, as usual, winked at him.

“Back off, Gwen, he’s mine,” growled Ginny, though it was completely without malice.

“Hey, he comes in here, I consider that an offer. Finders keepers and all that. One of these days I’m going to get to him first.”

The laughter around the room grew even more raucous as Gwendolyn proceeded to describe all the wonderful things she would do for Harry. Many of them involved tying the Auror to a bench, dragging it into the showers, and giving the rest of the team a chance with him—after she had her way with him, of course.

There was a time Harry would have turned beet red at the statements, but enough time in the Auror Corps, not to mention a gaggle of elder Weasley males, and enough time ‘sneaking’ into the adrenaline filled locker room of a professional sports team had inured him to it all.

“I don’t know, Gwen,” he retorted. “You’d have to get me on the bench first.”

“Eh, I’d tie Ginny to it. That ought to bait you. Probably the only way I’d get to you first anyway.”

By this point, the rest of the team had dressed, except for Ginny, who was still hanging off of his arm in only green knickers, and they all cried out in laughter as they made their way from the locker room. “Don’t take too long, Potter. You had the most scores, you owe us a round!” called out Glenda just before the doors shut.

The bolt hadn’t even clicked back into place before Ginny plastered herself to the front of Harry and slid down his body, opening his robes as she went. He shrugged his shoulders, letting his robes fall to the floor, and Ginny deftly opened his trousers, allowing his cock the freedom it had been waiting for.

It was almost a ritual for them. A win and she jumped on him—‘getting him ready’ she called it. A loss and he needed to ‘console her,’ in pretty much the same way. And since the Harpies had won, Harry’s cock was out in the open air for all of a second before Ginny’s hands wrapped around its girth, and her mouth encompassed its head.

Whatever fun he had been having, whatever banter, the excitement of all the naked women (which never seemed to lose its appeal no matter how commonplace it had become for him,) it all disappeared into the warmth of Ginny’s mouth and the caress of her hot, wet tongue. And like exceptional lovers could do for each other, Ginny played him masterfully. She brought him closer and closer, taking just a bit more of him into her mouth as she went, coaxing him just to that plateau, before she released him, jumped up, and said, “I’m all filthy. Get undressed, Harry. I need you in the shower.”

He really didn’t need to be told twice. He yanked his trousers down, stepping out of them and his boxers at the same time, leaving them on the floor, and jerked his shirt over his head, leaving it, too, on the floor. He hopped for several steps as his shoes and socks followed.

By the time he reached the showers, Ginny was standing next to the tall, silver pole, one of the four shower heads spewing forth steaming water that cascaded down her pale, shapely body. Her hair, usually pulled back into a ponytail or braid for a game, now hung loose, falling down her back, strands and clumps of it stuck to her shoulders, accentuating their lean, muscular shape with red highlights.

Harry walked toward her, his feet slapping wetly on the hard, flat floor.

“That was cruel,” he stated, grabbing her by the shoulders.

“Yes,” she agreed. “So, take it out on me.”

The twinkle in her eye belied her mirth, and they both knew that the ‘punishment’ would be anything but.

He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her in for a kiss, her slick skin pressing against his own. He slid his hands down the open expanse of her back and squeezed her ass, Ginny moaning in response. Pulling one arm away, he slid a hand, lightly, around her waist to tantalize the skin of her breast. He could feel her shiver under the warm spray.

He slid his hand down, between them, over her stomach, dipping a finger into her belly button, and then down further between her legs. With their bodies together, there was not enough water there to wash away the warm slickness that told him she was more than ready. Grabbing himself, he positioned himself to enter her, and pushed his hips forwards, sliding slowly in.

Each time Ginny responded, her hips urging him on in time with her moans, he halted, waiting for her to accept his control of the activities. This was to be ‘punishment’ after all. Eventually, she would groan, and Harry would start his sensually slow sinking into her, and her moaning would start once again.

Lost as he was in kissing his wet and randy wife, as well as the sensations of being inside her, he had no idea how long they had been at their little game. But once he was all the way inside of her, the base of his torso rubbing at her clit, he knew he could take no more. She had certainly worked him up well.

Stepping forward, he drove Ginny carefully backwards, until the cool tile pressed at her back. And no longer needing to worry about her balance, and his need raging through him, he pulled back his hips and thrust hard back inter her.

Ginny’s grunt of surprise and pleasure spurred him on and he thrust into her once again, causing her to cry out. There was no better sound in the world to Harry’s mind than that of his wife’s pleasure, and soon he was driving into her, repeatedly and forcefully pressing her between him and the solid wall. Her breath was coming in gasps as she caught what air she could, only to have it forced out of her.

All too soon for Harry’s liking, he could feel the pressure deep in his groin reaching that critical point, and before he could do anything about it, he shouted out as the feel broke and he emptied himself into his wife.

When it was all over, he fell forward into her, doing his best not to crush her. Her lithe arms, which had been flailing wildly at the end, came up and caressed his back. They stood there like that for quite a while, regaining their breath, until Ginny finally said, “I think I’m dirty again.”

Together, they laughed a bit, but the movement and vibrations brought Harry quickly back to life inside of her. Reaching behind him, he found the controls of a different shower and turned it on. The steamy spray washed over them as they made love once more. This time was less hurried, less forceful. But, as all good things must to, it was soon over.

Husband and wife grabbed a couple clothes hanging for the players’ use and washed each other down.

They had dried off and just finished dressing when Gabby came back into the locker room.

“She’s giving me a tryout after the Championships!” she squealed. “And she told me to remind you that you owe a round, Ginny, so ‘stop playing with your Auror toy and get your sweet arse to the pub.’ Her words,” she finished, smiling, and leading them out of the locker room, a happy little bounce in her step.


End file.
